In the spring of 1959, Joe and Sheila spliced the knot, as he put it. The wedding took place in Bournemouth and Sheila looked really nice in a cream-coloured suit and a big bouquet of creamy freesias and maiden-hair fern in her hand. Joe, with his hair and beard neatly trimmed, was all smart in a new navy-blue suit. Tall and upright, he looked the Naval Officer he had once been. Susan was bridesmaid to her mother and looked sweet in a frothy pink organza frock with false pink rosebuds in her hair. I had declined to be a bridesmaid and I think Susan was rather pleased to hog that particular limelight. The couple made their vows at the Registry Office and after they had signed the register we all went off to the local inn to have a wedding breakfast.
Joe had left the Lighthouse service now and got the post he’d applied for as Harbour Master, managing a fishing harbour up on the Yorkshire coast. The post came with a lovely old eighteenth century house situated on the quayside. He was to be responsible for port maintenance, the allocation of berths, piloting and moving cargo and fishing ships in and out of the harbour. He was delighted with the new job and Sheila said she was delighted with her new home.
‘I’ve never felt settled enough to get a nice home going. Now I’ve even got a little garden and can grow vegetables, bushes and all my favourite flowers. I can settle back and enjoy life.’
Susan had left school as soon as she was fifteen and opted to stay with her grandmother, Ethel Alcott, in Bournemouth rather than join the newlyweds and start yet another new life. She had found a job as a junior trainee in a hairdressing salon called Mandy’s in the town centre. She was proving to have some talent in this direction, having practiced for years on her dolls.
‘Let Mandy cut your hair, Bridie,’ she urged. ‘You’ve got lovely thick hair and it would look great if she cut it in a nice modern style.
‘I like to keep it long,’ I retorted. ‘Keep those scissors of yours away from me. I know what hairdressers can be like once they get near you with a pair of scissors. You end up half bald.’
‘Oh, rubbish! You’d look so much nicer; modern. It’s old fashioned done up in a French plait like that. Cut it to your shoulders at least and have flick ups. That would look great.’
‘I’m happy the way I am,’ I said firmly and she subsided but still eyed me hungrily as if she couldn’t wait to practise her own cutting skills on my thick mop. She’d got herself a boyfriend already, which didn’t surprise me – a sixteen year old lad from Barrington’s cycle shop next door. It was Tony said this and Tony said that all the time till I grew sick of it. All her conversation centred on Tony, the happenings at her salon, women’s magazines and the soaps on television.
Ryan got leave to come to his Ma’s wedding and, as her own father was dead now, took over the role of giving away the bride. He came up towards the Registrar’s desk, his mum on his arm, looking proud and pleased, ready to hand her over into Joe’s loving care. I’d never seen Ryan in a suit before; he wore a smart dark grey one with ease and elegance and I thought how he wasn’t as playboy handsome as Jim and Andy had turned out to be, but had looks that were far more interesting, full of character and even a certain nobility. He suited formal clothes and always looked good in his army uniform though it had taken me some time to get used to the loss of his thick dark floppy hair, now reduced to a crew cut.
I wasn’t surprised Andy declined to come to his dad’s wedding. I suppose it’s hard seeing your dad re-marry within a few months of your mother’s death, whatever she may have been like, and Andy had always seen the best of her being the favourite. He sent a telegram and good wishes and a present and that was it. I could tell Joe was disappointed about it but, let’s face it, he had abandoned the boys during their formative years. He couldn’t expect them to feel much in the way of sentiment for him. As for myself I felt deep relief that Andy and his hard-faced girlfriend weren’t coming. He may have appeared to change but I didn’t quite believe it. Do leopards change their spots?
Jim, however, had promised to turn up in time for the wedding breakfast and this made me feel anxious. I was worried there might to be another confrontation or hostility between him and Ryan and didn’t want Joe and Sheila’s wedding day marred by anything unpleasant.
When I saw Jim arrive at the Ship and Anchor, where the feasting was being held, I glued myself to Ethel Alcott and her cronies who were having a preliminary sherry in the lounge. I hoped he wouldn’t spot me too soon and meant to be very cool and distant towards him. He looked around when he came in but I bent down to fiddle with the hem of my dress so he missed me and went on into the saloon bar where some of the men were already gathering and ordering their drinks.
Jim was seated a way off down the table, next to Joe and Sheila as befitted the eldest son. Ryan was placed next to me as we seemed to be considered a couple by just about everyone. Thankfully, Susan was seated near some younger member of their family and well out of earshot. When the gong was banged and the meal announced, we all trooped into the dining room and that’s where Jim caught me up, his eagle eye ever on the watch.
‘Are you avoiding me, Bridie O’Neill?’ he asked. His voice was slightly slurred and gave away the fact that he had downed a good few shots of whisky while waiting. He studied me with approval. I looked very smart today in a dainty blue frock, cut a little low in the neck, tight at the waist and with a full swirl skirt, fresh white flowers in my hair. He’d mainly seen me in plimsolls, scruffy jeans and sweaters when I was at home. I knew I looked good and many glances had come my way from the young men around me. I decided I rather liked dressing up now and then.
‘Why should I avoid you, Jim Bosworth?’
‘Don’t even try. I’ll always find you, Bridie. God, you’ve grown so pretty. You were such a skinny little thing. Now, well … ’ his eyes dwelt on my nicely rounded bust and I shifted a little uncomfortably. I didn’t like him looking at me like that and didn’t like the smell of the drink on his breath. He changed the subject, sensing my embarrassment. ‘So – our dad’s found himself a woman to appreciate him at last. Aren’t you glad?’
‘I’m very glad,’ I said. ‘They both deserve to be happy. Sheila’s a lovely woman.’
‘Not exactly an oil painting though,’ said Jim disparagingly.
‘Oh, come on, looks aren’t that important, Jim. Warmth and love are more important.’
‘Well, yes, but looks as well make the perfect combination. In the end it’s good looks in a man or woman that win the day. People will always choose the good-lookers over the ugly ones in any situation. I mean to make use of that fact when I become a barrister.’
‘You think you’ll sway a case because of your looks?’ I asked amused.
‘I know I will. It sounds vain but it isn’t, Bridie. I’m not claiming the good looks, it’s not any thanks to me. I was born this way, came from a good looking mother – just as you do. I merely mean to make use of it as an asset.’
‘Has it proved an asset so far?’
‘It has with the girls,’ he grinned.
‘Not with all the girls.’
His face went serious, ‘I hope that doesn’t mean you?’
‘Looks aren’t important to me. I prefer a caring heart. But that has nothing to do with it, has it? What I think of you isn’t the point as you’re my brother.’
‘I’m not!’ he replied with some heat. ‘It makes me so mad when you say that. You’re calling yourself Bridie O Neill now, aren’t you? So, you don’t want to be thought of as part of our family? That’s proof enough. How can you say I’m your brother? We were brought up together for a bit, that’s all. So are lots of people. All the more reason to be attracted to each other as we know and understand one another so well.’
‘I don’t think you understand me at all, Jim.’
‘I do, Bridie, I know better than anyone what Mum put you through. I always felt sorry for you and wanted to protect and help but didn’t quite know how. I was just a kid myself. I wasn’t scared of Mum but I didn’t know how to deal with her, not then. She had a fierce temper.’
‘Don’t I know!’ I said with feeling.
‘You do. And I want to make amends to you, Bridie.’
I stared at him and then laughed. ‘You don’t need to make amends, Jim, it wasn’t your fault. I understand fully that you didn’t know how to help. You couldn’t do anything about it. It was up to me to stand up to her and I never really did. If I had, things might have been different. But I was a coward, Jim. I just did what she asked and was afraid of her most of the time. I was a passive fool. I wouldn’t be like that now.’
‘You were a child and she terrorised you. How could you fight that as a child? Run away? Where else could you have gone? It wasn’t cowardly, Bridie, it was self preservation and we all go in for that.’
‘Don’t, Jim – don’t talk about it any more. I want to put it behind me, bury it with Millie and never think of those times again.’
He put a hand on my arm and his touch was gentle and compassionate.
‘I won’t say another word about it. Anyway, I want to talk to you about what you’re planning to do now Dad’s married and going off to Yorkshire. I’ll bet you’ve made a load of interesting plans. Are you sitting with me?’ he asked as he steered me towards the table.
‘No, I’m with Ryan,’ I replied and at that moment up came Ryan looking daggers at Jim. Jim let my arm go and the two young men stood stiffly, staring at one another.
‘How are you?’ asked Jim very formally. He put out a hand but Ryan didn’t take it.
‘Fine.’ was the brief reply. Taking my other arm, Ryan led me off to sit beside him at the table. I looked back at Jim, grimaced and shrugged my shoulders. His face in that moment looked dark and mean. God, he was like Millie when she was thwarted by someone! I was glad I’d looked back and seen that expression. It reminded me of the reason I could never take to Jim despite those amazing good looks.
Ryan said not a word, just held my arm tightly as if afraid to let me go. We found our places and sat down beside one another. I smiled at him and he returned a look full of feeling, took my hand under the table and squeezed it hard. In a way I rather liked this silent, undemonstrative passion. Ryan was never a conversationalist so we spent the soup course in silence, I making occasional conversation with some middle-aged auntie of his sitting on the other side of me. After the soup plates had been cleared away, Ryan bent towards me and said softly, ‘Bridie, I’m almost done with the Army and I’ve got a place as an SAK. They reckon I’ll get on the rock light where my dad is Principal Keeper. He was moved to Wolf Rock a few months ago and I’ll be joining him there in September. I think that will be a turn up, don’t you? Having Dad as my boss!’
‘That’s great news, Ryan!’
‘Reckon they’re doing it on purpose to try me out. Hope I live up to Dad’s expectations. I bet he’ll lead me a dog’s life. He has a reputation does Dad and he’s bound to be harder on me than the others. But I’m prepared for it.’
‘Oh, you’re tough, Ryan, and determined to do well. Nothing seems too much hard work for you. God knows you’re as much of a perfectionist as your dad in your own way. He’ll be a good training ground and I know he’ll be proud of you. Is he keeping well?’
‘Yes, he’s fine and glad to know Ma’s happy with someone that makes her feel safe and secure. He’s not an ogre, you know. He’s a good bloke is Dad, just a loner like me.’
I said nothing to this but wondered in my heart if marrying Ryan would mean that I’d end up feeling sad, insecure and lonely just like Sheila had been.
Ryan seemed to sense my thoughts.
‘I won’t be like him, Bridie,’ he said. ‘I’ll look after you and I’ll be glad to be home with you. I miss you now, don’t think I don’t. You needn’t worry that I’ll turn out like Dad.’
‘You always read my mind, Ryan,’ I smiled. ‘How do you do it?’
‘Because I know you inside. I read your eyes and know what’s in your heart – and that’s because I love you.’
He almost whispered these last words and I wasn’t sure if I’d heard them right. But I could make no response just then for at that moment the speeches began and we were all distracted by bad jokes and the usual wedding day innuendos. I glanced over at Jim and saw him looking very bored, occasionally whispering without much enthusiasm to a young girl seated next to him and slugging the wine back like a good ’un. She seemed to be trying hard to win his interest but he was not responsive at all. When he looked over at me he didn’t smile. If anything he looked tired and fed up.
Later on, when the guests had left, Sheila and Joe went off in the old Morris to their new home where they were to spend the night before setting off for a few days in the Lake District. After seeing them off with heaps of rose petal confetti thrown about in happy abandon and old boots tied to the fender rattling along the roadway, the rest of us went back into the inn to sort ourselves out and collect our bags and other belongings.
Sheila’s mother, Ethel Alcott, had put me up again since Joe had left the service. Joe had lodged in a room at the Ship and Anchor while waiting for the wedding to be arranged and his new job secured. I felt so sad leaving behind my dear little cat, Stevie, but cats love their homes, not people. So I left him to the new keepers who were to occupy the cottage where I had known such happy times. They had a little girl who was thrilled with her new pet and promised faithfully to take good care of him. Stevie had given me great happiness and comfort and I cuddled him till he got restless and broke away. I watched him saunter off and jump up onto his favourite wall where he liked to sit in the sun and warm his whiskers.
‘Goodbye, Stevie,’ I whispered, ‘goodbye, innocent childhood.’
A wave of sadness washed over me. It was the end of yet another chapter of my unsettled life.
Jim came over to me as we waved our goodbyes to the happy couple and said, ‘I hope to see you soon, Bridie. We’ve left it far too long to meet up again. I’m nearly through at Cambridge, finals will be next year and I mean to get a first, nothing less. I mean to do well, Bridie, make you and Dad proud of me. I’ve bought a little flat in London with my inheritance – well, it’s only a couple of rooms really but it’s all my own. I shall be there all summer. Here’s my address and phone number. Call me up and let me know what you decide to do with yourself. I’ve got a few contacts and may be able to help you get settled. Come to London, Bridie,’ his voice was winning and pleading, ‘do come. It’s the place to be. You’ll love it there and I’ll show you a good time. Take you dancing, to films… you act like an old woman sometimes. You need to let up, be the young girl you are. A modern girl, not one that’s old before her time. Money’s not such a worry for me any more, thank God. I can help you out if you need it.’
‘This is how I am, Jim. I don’t care about films and dancing and all that.’
‘Maybe you should. Maybe it’s just what you need, Bridie, before they make you settle down in some cut-off, lonely existence miles from anywhere.’
I smiled. ‘I suppose you’re right, I need to find out for myself. Thanks Jim, I’ll let you know. I might come, I really might. I do want to do something else … something different, see the world. But don’t offer me money. I can sort myself out. I’m not afraid of hard work.’
He smiled at me. ‘I know you’re not. You’re an amazing girl. Come Bridie, come. I really urge you – you’re wasted here. And I don’t want to lose touch with you – little sister,’ he added mockingly.
‘That’s right. Just think of me as your sister and we’ll be fine,’ I smiled.
He looked exasperated. ‘You haven’t still got a thing for that miserable, sour-faced bloke? I don’t understand why. You don’t owe him anything. I know they all think you two are going to marry but he’s not for you, Bridie. You’ve lots of spunk. You don’t want to be buried in some out of the way place while he pisses off and leaves you alone doing what he wants to do and to hell with your life. I can show you a different life. Come and see. Don’t be as passive with him as you say you were with Mum. Remember this, Bridie – remember my words of warning.’
He wavered drunkenly towards me, aiming for my mouth, but I turned my head and the kiss landed on my cheek. Just at that moment Ryan approached us.
‘You going at last?’ said Ryan in a sour voice.
‘Ryan!’ I exclaimed. I’d never heard him be so offensive to anyone. He was always abrupt and blunt but he was never really rude.
Jim just laughed a funny little laugh. ‘You won’t win, Ryan Waterman,’ he said enigmatically, turned on his heel and weaved his way to the door.
‘Won’t I though?’ Ryan muttered. ‘You drunken sod, you wait and see.’
I raised my eyebrows in disgust. Jim had a point. Was I to let Ryan bulldoze me like Millie had done? Treat me like Sidney had treated Sheila? My heart went a little further towards steel.
As I collected my handbag and cardigan, Ryan negotiated a lift for us back to his Nan’s little semi near Durley Chine. He was to spend the night on the bed settee while Susan now had the room she had shared with her mum all to herself. I had a tiny box room, where even Stevie would have found it hard put to find some space to curl up, and where I was always knocking my shins on the wooden corners of the bed. However, it was adequate for the time being till I sorted myself out and decided where exactly I would go and what I would do with myself. It was a strange time. I felt at crossroads in life with many paths lying out there beckoning. Which to take? My old uncertainty rose in me but I had a feeling that somehow all would be made clear if I just waited for the still, small voice to murmur my future in my ear.
After we had all changed into more comfortable clothes and had a spot of tea, Susan went off to meet her Tony while Ryan suggested a walk along the promenade to me.
‘Off you go, you love-birds,’ said Ethel, ‘get yourselves a bit of fresh air. Be another wedding soon, I reckon.’
I smiled uncertainly at this but agreed a walk would be a lovely idea. It was a delightful spring day and the afternoon sun was pleasantly warm, shining a sharp yellow on the sidewalks and the white walls of the houses. We strolled along in companionable silence, my spirits uplifted at having Ryan to myself and also because Joe and Sheila were happy and Mean Millie was no more.
We sat down on a bench and Ryan lit a cigarette.
‘Joe tells me you want to go to a college, Bridie,’ said Ryan after a while.
I watched him smoking for a bit, admiring the rise of his sharp, high cheekbones. ‘Yes, I want to learn about proper catering. I want to learn something useful and get myself out and about a bit more, find myself a place to live. I may stay here in Bournemouth, I’m not sure yet. Depends where I find a suitable course.’
‘But you’re already a great cook,’ he said, puzzled.
‘Well, you learn more than just cooking. You learn about how to run a hotel or a restaurant, how to lay tables properly, shop for the right things, and deal with staff and how to see to the business and book-keeping side. It might be useful one day.’
‘Can’t see why. You won’t need to run a business married to me. You’ll have kids and you’ll come along with me wherever I go, won’t you?’
I picked at the white freesia still in my jacket and twirled the half dead flower in my hands. ‘Ryan, why does everyone assume I’m going to marry you? Seems everyone has decided my fate for me. Don’t I get a say in this?’
‘But you love me, Bridie, and I love you. What more is there to say? It’s so simple and right and meant to be. I knew it as soon as I met you and you but a gangly kid.’
‘Oh, thanks.’
He sighed and took my hand in his. ‘I’m not the sort for posh words and speeches, Bridie, you know that. I can’t say such stuff easy. I only know what I feel – feel in my heart here.’
He put my hand on his heart as he said this as if to let me feel it beating beneath his jacket and I was touched by his words.
‘My heart’s open to you – wide open,’ he continued. ‘It tells you the truth of what it feels. I feel such deep love for you. It’s like I know you through and through and down and up. I have a lot of love to give, such a lot of love. You’re my girl, I know it, and you always will be. You know it, too. You saying you don’t love me any more?’
My own heart moved out in a wave towards him at these words and I reached out and touched his cheek with my hand.
‘Ryan, I do love you just the way you’re saying and it’s good to hear you say all this at last. I love you so much it hurts and the separation is tough enough already. It’s something I’ve had to get used to and always will, won’t I? But maybe you should have said some of these things before, not taken me for granted like you have. I never heard all this from you; you never even said you really loved me. And things have to be said sometimes. I wasn’t sure and that’s made me try not to love you too hard case you let me down in the end, in case I was dreaming.’
‘You aren’t dreaming, Bridie, and that’s the truth. I’m mad for you. Always have been. But it wouldn’t have done to show it when you were a kid. People would have said I was up to no good. Your dad would have whacked me one and mine too. So I had to keep quiet, don’t you see that?’
I fell silent for a bit and a strange sense of regret came over me.
‘Maybe we met too young,’ I said sadly, ‘maybe it’s too late now. It’s hard to explain but I feel a need just for a bit – just for a bit, mind – to be myself. To be Bridie O’Neill and not what everyone else wants her to be. I thought I was content with a simple life – well, I was content, but now something’s stirring in me. A need for change and action and experience. I want to go to college, improve my education, learn to fend for myself. I’ll have to learn to do just that if we do marry for you may be away for ages. I know the lonely existence of a keeper’s wife. I don’t mind it, don’t get me wrong. I like the life and doubt I’d ever get bored for I enjoy my own company. But I want to see the world a little, the world beyond the keeper’s cottages and the lights. I feel so ignorant.’
He looked at me askance. ‘Ignorance can be bliss, Bridie,’ he said. ‘Knowledge isn’t all it’s cooked up to be. It can be a dangerous thing. May make you all dissatisfied and miserable where you were peaceful and happy before.’
‘Well, Eve will taste the apple, like it or not,’ I smiled. ‘I want a bite of the apple, Ryan. Ask me to marry you properly in a year’s time and then we’ll see. By then you’ll be an AK and you’ll have had some experience. You may want to spend your life on an ivory tower but I’m not so sure I want to any more. Don’t take me for granted, let me have an identity of my own. Not just as your wife, Mr Waterman.’
‘You’ve been getting into all this bloody feminist stuff by the sound of it,’ he said in some disgust. ‘It won’t make you happier, Bridie, you mark my words. You’ve changed, you have. What’s changed you? Is it that bastard Jim Bosworth? He’s always had his eye on you, I know it. Smart bastard, with his Cambridge accent and all his fine ways! I saw how he was eyeing you up. He’s lucky he didn’t get another sock in the eye but I wasn’t going to play up at Mum’s wedding.’
‘Well, I’m glad you didn’t! And stop swearing like that, Ryan. I’ve never heard you go on like this. It’s not Jim, it’s meeting Millie again that changed me,’ I said. ‘I faced fear and anger and hatred and all the bad things in me and I have overcome them and in a way, I’ve found my real self.’
‘I don’t understand. You seem harder and not the sweet, gentle kid I knew.’
‘All the more reason for us to wait then, Ryan,’ I said. ‘In a couple of years you may not feel the same about me nor I you. We were kids when we met and now we’re both grown up and naturally things change.’
‘Hell, Bridie, I thought it was all so sure and certain and mapped out,’ he said disconsolately. ‘Look, I’m asking you now, marry me and come with me and forget all this college stuff. I’m off to the rock light soon and we’ll get a flat in the nearest town and you can maybe take up something there, get a local job or something. Parting now and then’s not always so bad, you know, it keeps love fresh, keeps a marriage from getting stale and boring. Don’t look at Mum and Dad, they’re different in nature but we’re so alike you and me, we understand each other really deep. It could be like a honeymoon every time we meet. There’s grandeur in that. Oh, Bridie, I want you to come with me, want to be sure you’re mine. If you go off like this on your own anyone may get you before me. I can’t abide that thought. You’re my girl, d’you hear?’
These last words stung me to anger and I rose and began to walk on. He came after me, taking my arm and looking into my face.
‘Now what?’ he asked. I shook him off.
‘You don’t own me, Ryan. Don’t you understand? I want to be myself for a bit, not just someone’s wife. Let me go and ask again in a year’s time. I’m still too young to marry. I don’t want to be a mother yet, have lots of kids. I’m not ready for it. I’m the sensible one, not you. I’ve never known you so carried away! Look, you may feel different as well, meet another girl. How do I know? It’s a risk we’ll both have to take.’
He let go of my arm and walked along in silence beside me. I could tell he was angry. When we came to the end of the promenade we stood and looked over the sea. The tide had come in and the waves, rippled by the faintest breeze, were moving in delicate rhythm, lapping against the bulwarks and sides of the promenade. Little fair-weather clouds scuttled along the sky like busy people off to the shops. It all seemed so peaceful, unlike our stormy feelings.
Ryan turned to me miserably. ‘You won’t be happy, Bridie,’ he said again. ‘You won’t be happy without me and a quiet life. It’s the way you are and I know it. I know what you are better’n you do yourself. But be free if you must and I’ll be back in a year and a day, like a fairytale hero, you wait and see.’
He turned and took me in his arms as he had never done before, kissing me passionately and feverishly, and we kissed for a long time. Feelings, desires, longings flared up in me and I breathed hard, burying my face in his jacket. He held me tightly and said, ‘See, you want me like I want you, Bridie. Why are you so stubborn, damn you?’
‘A year and a day,’ I said breaking away from him and we walked home in silence. I was not going to be passive. I already felt miserable but there was no turning back. My mind was made up and Ryan would just have to go along with it or go away.
I felt so sad when the time came for him to leave us. We hugged one another for a long time, speechless, forlorn, and he looked at me before he left with a deep, searching look that seared my soul. I wondered why I was making us both so unhappy. What was driving me like this? Wouldn’t it just be simpler to give in and go along with Ryan, flow with the current like an unmoored boat? But I couldn’t. Some spirit of self preservation made me feel a desperate need to flow against it, to swim upstream like a salmon and find my way back to my own true self.